


A Chapter about the Machinations of the Comte de Chalais and his Lady Love

by Susamo



Category: Les Trois Mousquetaires | The Three Musketeers Series - Alexandre Dumas, Perry Rhodan - Various Authors
Genre: Crossover, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-25 21:41:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30095526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Susamo/pseuds/Susamo
Summary: The four musketeers and the Count of Beauvallon play a trick on His Eminence and save his life, but not the one of the Comte de ChalaisAtlan da Gonozal in his guise as Atlan d'Arcon, count of Beauvallon, and his friends the Four Musketeers, break into the house of the duke of Chevreuse, seeking to steal certain papers of great political explosiveness. That adventure successfully accomplished, the Arkonide has a talk with the Cardinal de Richelieu...
Relationships: Atlan da Gonozal/Bernardine de Brecassar
Comments: 3
Kudos: 1





	A Chapter about the Machinations of the Comte de Chalais and his Lady Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Palatinedreams](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Palatinedreams/gifts).



> For palatinedreams.
> 
> Dear palatinedreams, Happy Birthday to you!!!
> 
> May you spend a wonderful birthday with your family, relax a little and have a nice outing in the forest, a lot of light and sunshine all your days, happiness and good fortune and most of all, good health!
> 
> Some time ago I promised that one day I would write a crossover, starring Atlan da Gonozal and the Four Musketeers. Tah-dah, that day has come! As always, I have done my best to put the story into a correct historical setting. The conspiracy where the comte de Chalais was to assassinate King Louis the thirteenth, in the year of 1626, truly took place, as did his execution at Nantes, on the nineteenth of August that year.
> 
> The four musketeers are fictional characters created by Alexandre Dumas, but they have historical models who, at about the time of 1640, truly served with the King's musketeers. As to the Cardinal of Richelieu, he is one of the most prominent and interesting historical figures, and not exactly the villain Dumas portrays him as. He had many layers to his personality, some of them quite likable, others impressive and formidable. He was, in short, not only a prince of the church but a politician...
> 
> Atlan da Gonozal is an Arkonide, a member of an alien people from Arkon, some thirty thousand light-years away from Earth. He came to the planet ten thousand years ago with his people and a colonial fleet, and built a colony at the large isle named after him, Atlantis. Then another kind of aliens attacked Earth. He succeeded in defending Earth and mankind, but in the process lost all his space-ships and the crews, and was the only survivor of the catastrophe after Atlantis sank beneath the waves, due to the alien attack that made even the magnetic pole of the planet tilt.
> 
> Atlan looks as every Arkonide does, having silvery white hair and golden-red eyes, and is relatively immortal because of the gift of a great being of pure energy. The gadget is called a cellular activator and keeps his body young and repels sickness as well as poison. He has passed the Ark Summia, a kind of superior examination and test, and because of that has had his logic sector, also called the extra sense, activated. It is kind of a mental partner, communicating with him by telepathy, and observes everything logically, giving advice. The logic sector sometimes calls him "Crystal Prince", a title he bears as the heir to the throne of the Arkonides.
> 
> Atlan retreated to a submarine station of the Arkonides, the so-called dome, where he is attended by robots, and sleeps there for thousands of years. In case of danger to mankind, he is woken by his mechanical servant Rico and comes to the surface of Earth to fight dangerous aliens or cosmic catastrophes threatening Earth. 
> 
> He meets many prominent people through his sojourn on Earth and does his best to teach humankind, fighting diseases as well as advising kings and rulers. He hopes to protect and teach his little barbarians till they have advanced far enough to build a new spaceship for him to let him return to Arkon. 
> 
> In the twenty-first century, Atlan meets Perry Rhodan, the leader of mankind at that time, and becomes his friend. All else is history and can be read in the issues of the great science fiction series named Perry Rhodan and at the website Perrypedia.

A Chapter about the Machinations of the Comte de Chalais and his Lady Love

The four musketeers and the Count of Beauvallon play a trick on His Eminence and save his life, but not the one of the Comte de Chalais

“The scent of roses.”

“How romantical a notion. I prefer the fragrance of lilies. Oh, take care!”

“My thanks for your warning, monsieur le abbé in spe. That jutting piece of iron was full of rust. Lilies-in honour of our Holy Virgin, isn’t it?”

“Of course. You, my friend, would choose the smell of a roasted capon, wouldn’t you?”

“That goes without saying! And you, friend Athos?”

“I’d like the smell of a glass of good strong red wine best. If that wine does not come from Anjou.”

The narrow tunnel was echoing with the laughter of the five men. The light from the two lanterns was dancing across the damp walls, overgrown and dripping with foul-smelling moss, and was mirrored in the filthy water.

“And you, Monsieur d’Arcon? Which kind of smell would you prefer to that stink here?”

“A lot. But if it is to be the scent of flowers-then let it be pink cloves.”

The water of the canal splashed softly with the cautious steps of the men. It was easy to slip and stumble upon the slimy stones and all the offal drifting in that toxic brew. On several occasions, the water rose above the ankles of the men’s high boots.

“Oh, merciful Jesus! Is that a piece of a man’s arm floating by?”

“Unquestionably. Messieurs, now we know it for sure where the knifers of the Parisian criminal world are throwing the bodies of their victims!”

“We knew that before. But now we see that the pieces are distributed well. One hears that at least ten dead people can be found floating in the Seine every morning-if one would want to go look and find them, that is.”

“Might they rest in peace at long last-requiescant in pace, Amen.”

“Amen. Monsieur le Comte, how long till we can get out of this tunnel?”

“According to the recordings of the engineers which I could read clandestinely, it will be a few minutes more, I believe. The new annex to the hotel de Chevreuse has been finished only three years ago complete with its own well and a canal with access from the cellar, dug by the previous owner. That canal should branch off at the left. Entering that we will have to be much quieter than we are now.”

“All right, Monsieur. Till now only these rats can hear us down here!”

“My dear young friend, this means that we at least have a numerous audience listening to us. Look, there-is that the diverging canal emerging?” Porthos raised the lantern higher and stared.

“I don’t see anything yet. Dammit, it’s so dark in this tunnel that one could be assaulted before one noticed anyone approaching!”

Involuntarily, the men had begun to whisper.

“Dear D ’Artagnan, who do you fear would be attacking you? Those rats?” Porthos mocked, suppressing his voice. Atlan cleared his throat.

“Actually, the danger to be assaulted down here isn’t that small”, he explained dryly. “Alexandre le Loup, the king of the beggars, and his people make daily use of the canals and mine tunnels beneath the earth and rock of Paris, like the way we walk through her streets and alleys. Just like that the aforesaid chourineurs, the knifers of Paris, are making use of these boltholes. Why do you think that the men of the Marechaussee and the Guardsmen of the Watch lose track of their prey that often and have to let the criminals go? These tunnels are many miles long and at least in part date back to Roman times. Apart from the people of the Court of Miracles, nobody knows how many of these passages exist and how long they are.”

Athos smiled grimly, while Aramis shook his head disapprovingly. D’Artagnan was grinning openly.

“Now, now, Monsieur le comte”, Aramis said reproachfully, though he was smiling now too.

“Who would know that such a person like the King of Beggars does exist in truth? And who, in case he knew that, would speak of it? A count who is accepted at court, who is-ah-the best friend of a lady-in-waiting of Her Majesty herself, who comes and goes as he pleases at the wonderful hotel de Brecassar, and who knows the uncle of his lady, the great Louis de Cosse, the Grand Panetier de France, personally-how can such a distinguished gentleman act so improperly that he would mention the King of the Beggars by name?”

The Arkonide smiled back in the same derisive manner. His friends from the King’s Musketeers knew him well enough to know all that, as they knew the reasons too why a distinguished noble count of France would know the King of the Beggars and his subjects.

“I am aware that it is most unusual for a nobleman to work as a physician and to lecture at the Sorbonne. But at least I do that without asking for payment, and so I keep from violating the law demanding that a nobleman may only have the occupation of a trader by sea, or of a glassblower. Apart from that, I have the explicit permission of His Majesty to follow my occupations without charging anything, and the new pater provincial of the Jesuits, the Pere Guyot, has given his Sanctus to me as well after he had the opportunity to watch me and ask several questions of me.”

“I see. And, how much as a charitable donation did our Holy Mother the Church ask from you for that Sanctus, my friend?”, Athos asked ironically while he cautiously went on towards the diverging tunnel, which by now had become well visible in the murk.

D’Artagnan and Porthos laughed softly, while Aramis snorted disgustedly.

“Actually, the Jesuit did not ask for a charitable donation”, Atlan answered in a serious tone. “At least not for a donation of minted money. What he did ask for was some of my time to be spent on treating the poor of Paris. He wanted me to dedicate one day of the week to such work. Since I did that already, now I offer two days a week for treating the poor. Among those, there always are several of the subjects of Alexandre le Loup, who is grateful to me for this kind of help and who has offered me his help in return. You know that the information this mission tonight is based upon has come from him. Apart from that my work as a physician truly is useful and helpful for the people of Paris. King Louis was all grace and proved to me how delighted he was.”

“And His Eminence the cardinal?” D’Artagnan could not let the matter go.

“As a prince of the Church, he could not gainsay such pious work, agreeable to God. As an opponent of the Jesuits, I believe him to have been less delighted; but he has to put a good face on the matter because His Majesty was well content. Now, though-silence, please, messieurs!”

They turned aside into the narrow tunnel whose ceiling also came down lower with each step. Soon Porthos had to draw in his head and shoulders; the men became even more cautious and were silent now. It was after midnight, and loud noise would be heard the easier.

From time to time at the sides they could see narrow flights of steps leading upward behind rusting grilles; here and there they went past iron ladders or even ladders of rotting wood. Some cellars of the houses above had no access to the system of tunnels and canals beneath the city, but many owners of rich houses and palaces, called hotels, wanted to have a last exit in case of fire or an attack of an opponent during a feud.

That applied as well to Claude de Lorraine, duc de Chevreuse. As a descendant of the famous house of Lorraine he was a most important and powerful nobleman, was influential at Court through his mother Catherine de Guise, and was married to the best friend of Queen Anne, the duchess Marie de Chevreuse, who was not only famous but rather infamous. Beautiful Marie made trouble for cardinal Richelieu wherever and whenever she could and was called the Devil by him. The cardinal had a reason. Her many lovers were rich and handsome and often helped her gladly with her political goals. Claude de Chevreuse was known to have said that he could not lie down in his wife’s bed since the room was all filled up by her many friends and admirers. The whole of Paris knew those words the other day and cited them at every suitable-and unsuitable-occasion. 

Since that marriage mainly had been one for political reasons, to bring the houses of Guise and of Rohan together, the duke of Chevreuse did not care much for the little time his wife had for him. He liked to go on pilgrimage instead and savoured the sights and other joys which inns and other establishments along his road would offer him, and compensated his loss with the company of other females, being sure that his wife could not chide him for that.

The hotel de Chevreuse had a newly built access to the passage. Behind a neat, not yet rusty iron grille the steps of a spiral staircase became visible, which, according to the architect’s maps, went up to the outbuildings of the hotel. 

No house of Paris, not even the smallest dwelling of a modest burgher, was without its garden and stables, where not only horses but also mules or even pigs were housed. Everyone had at least chickens; the crowing of the roosters of Paris every morning got even the laziest fellow out of bed.

Without any ado the count of Beauvallon stepped forward and took out his dagger, putting the point carefully into the lock of the grille, and turned it several times. A click sounded, and the grille opened. 

Appreciatively the four musketeers nodded, no longer surprised by the shady abilities of their noble friend. It was rumoured at Court no less than at the musketeer’s quarters that the confidently demonstrated wealth of the red-eyed count came from trade at sea, with Chine and India, and that the comte d’Arcon had traveled as far and had spent several years of his youth in these countries. Nobody doubted that he had learned and experienced the most curious things on his journeys. In Chine, it was said, he had learned those tricks with the sword and the rapier which had become feared at Court very swiftly, even by the rowdiest fighters. In that country, rumour went, the noblemen wore pure silk and fought with narrow swords and even only with their hands and feet, without any weapon. That art the comte de Beauvallon had learned there too and had displayed it on several occasions. The thieves and robbers of the Court of Miracles had swiftly abandoned any further tries at assaulting the white-haired comte de Beauvallon, even if he, different from other noblemen, did not have a contingent of bodyguards accompanying him.

The Arkonide took the first lantern and cautiously, and as quietly as possible, ascended the staircase. This venture held several risks. On the other hand, if he had gone through the house of the Duc de Chevreuse under the guise of the deflector field and making use of the antigrav projector and had found and taken these dangerous documents that way, he might have been accused of magic and witchcraft again, and this time the matter might not have ended as well as it had done the first time. If he wanted to stay at the French Court, he had to keep the King’s favour and had to avoid any further accusation of sorcery.

“And that not only for the good of the people you cure and teach about hygiene and the simplest medical basics, for the thousandth time”, the extra sense threw in mockingly. “But also because of that blue-grey pair of eyes beneath golden-brown curls, and the charming and delightful rest of her figure, isn’t it, Your Grace Monsieur le comte d’Arcon?”

“Apart from madame Bernardine de Brecassar, yes, and my medical work of development, I am doing my best to stop another civil war in France from happening. This is a conflict predestined to turn the volatile situation in Germany into an all-European conflict. If such an all-encompassing war can be avoided at all, anymore, after the Danish have started to stir the pot as well, last year”, Atlan retorted. Why this hint of the logic sector?

“Because you are taking greater risks than usually during your missions this time for the sake of your beautiful widow, Crystal Prince”, the extra sense answered warningly.

“She is no slave you have freed or the victim of an assault you have rescued, who would follow you without question and who has nobody to look to but you and goes wherever you go. She is a high noble and has a close relationship with her family and has important duties at Court and on her lands, duties she will not simply abandon for your sake, Crystal Prince, even if you ran into danger and had to swiftly leave the Court or even France. On the contrary, if Gaston or another of these good-for-nothings of his party can slap you with a witch trial a second time, she will suffer as the first one and might even be dragged into the matter! Even as a courtier and a lady-in-waiting to the Queen she is not unassailable in such a case!  
That the cardinal Richelieu will not help you if you get into witchcraft trouble again is simply logical, and the Jesuits will not be willing to get their fingers burned, literally, even if they have shown some goodwill towards you. They might even start going after you if they think you to be a disobedient son of their Holy Mother the Roman Catholic Church-and as to that cardinal Berulle, that one is a fanatic and still yearning to see you burning at the stake! You should have coloured your eyes and your hair this time, fool!”

“To lessen Gaston’s power and stop his faction, and to hinder his plans we are here.” This mission now, which in fact was simple burglary with the intention of stealing something valuable, was to deal with several affairs, as usually bound together in adventurous ways. A surprising lot of matters were depending upon that simple piece of paper.

The spiral staircase ended in front of a massive door; hard wood of oak bound with heavy fittings of iron. This entrance was closed fast as well, as it was to be expected.  
The Arkonide made use of his dagger again. This was a vibrating blade of Arkonath steel and cut the inner parts of the lock like butter. When the damage would be discovered, the cause would no longer be detectable-provided they could leave the hotel de Chevreuse quietly and undetected.

Almost soundlessly the door swung aside, proof of the fact that the hinges were well oiled and that the Duc de Chevreuse was diligently seeing to having easy access to his last exit in case of fire or an assault.

“Rather not the Duc de Chevreuse but the duchess”, the extra sense remarked scathingly. “Without pause she schemes and thinks of intrigue, to do harm to the King and Cardinal Richelieu wherever and whenever she can, and to bring the orthodox party to power. She is not concerned much with politics and religion, though, but cares first for her own influence at Court, which she almost has lost once, already. King Louis cannot forgive her for the frivolousness she employed when she incited the Queen to thoughtless horsing around, which caused Queen Anne to lose her first child when she slipped and fell. He sent Marie de Rohan, the wife of his favourite de Luynes, away from Court, but when Luynes had died of an illness she seduced Claude de Lorraine the Duc de Chevreuse, and won his hand. Through that marriage, she now belongs to the Great and powerful family of Guise, to the house of Lorraine, and came back to Court full of triumph. Since then she cooks up one conspiracy after the other and makes use of her beauty and grace to win other co-conspirators. And there are many fools who fall into her traps.”

The last one of these foolish admirers was the count of Chalais, the master of the king’s wardrobe. By virtue of that office, he was near to King Louis every day when the king was dressed in the morning or his clothes were put off for sleeping. This way the count of Chalais could do enormous harm if he could be talked into it.

“The question isn’t whether la Chevreuse can persuade him”, the logic sector commented sourly. “It is only about how far and wide the conspiracy already has grown, anymore!”

The Arkonide nodded shortly to himself as he tiptoed through the cellar rooms, followed by the four musketeers. Coal and wood were heaped up at one place, at another sacks full of turnips and onions, and barrels containing pickled white and green cabbage. The duke had a lot of servants who had to be fed. He wouldn’t eat cabbage himself if it didn’t come with fine sauces and delicate salads accompanying venison or chicken and fish.

It was true. The logic sector was right as it always was. The question by now only was about how far the conspiracy had grown, and whether Her Majesty the Queen had signed that damned piece of paper or not.

At this time of night, the cellar rooms were empty. In the neighbouring stables, a few grooms kept watch over the numerous horses and apparently cared for an obviously sick animal-or was that a mare about to foal?

At any rate, the intruders managed to scurry through the arcades and leave the stables, concealed by the heaps of hay. The hounds in the pen beyond started to snarl but were swiftly silenced by the pieces of meat thrown by Porthos, who carried a whole bag of bait slung around his shoulder. D’Artagnan had generously rubbed that meat with laudanum; the watchdogs would be peacefully sleeping when the men would come this way again later.

As swiftly and silently as they could the five men hurried across the courtyard, past the well, and towards the main building. In this bright moonlight, everyone looking out a window would be able to see them. But they were in luck, and everything kept quiet.

The entrance to the kitchen was halfway opened to let fresh air into the smoke-filled rooms. Already in three hours the cook and his helpers would start their work for the day by baking fresh bread for the entire household.

Atlan knew the maps of the hotel de Chevreuse by heart, thanks to his photographic memory. Originally the property had belonged to de Luynes, the first husband of Marie de Rohan-Montbazon. After he had died, she sold the house to the Duc de Chevreuse-and now she was mistress again in her beloved hotel, which had been renovated, expanded, and considerably beautified by its new owner.

The servants’ stairs went up to the first floor and to a long passage, leading to the new magnificent gallery. At the end of the passage, the new spiral stairs had been built to allow for the soubrettes and the male servants to pass easily with the water jugs and the chamber pots of their masters.

“To the right, the dressing room of the duchess, behind that, her study”, Atlan whispered to his companions. The lanterns were hidden beneath the men’s coats, but the bright moonlight shining through the windows sufficed to light the rooms and let fine carvings upon the wainscoting be seen. The parquet floor sounded softly beneath the soles of the men’s boots, especially Porthos’, but the highly trained swordsmen were light-footed enough to pass unnoticed.

They knew that now the most dangerous part of their adventure had come. In the duchess’ bedroom not only she, but two maids were sleeping who had to be ready to serve at any moment, and in the cabinet beyond there slept a lady-in-waiting. If one of the women woke and heard the intruders move, all hell would be let loose the next moment. Even if that would mean only screaming for the first few minutes, the duke’s guards would come to the rescue swiftly, and those men-well-versed fighters and many in number-were not the company one would be craving for under such circumstances.

The study’s air was still permeated by the slight scent of wax candles and some heady perfume, proof of the fact that the Duchess of Chevreuse had been here still not too long ago. 

The Arkonide felt for the bolt and pushed it after he had closed the door as quietly as possible. A whispered order made Porthos and Athos take out the lanterns and hold them high, to let the men look around the cozy little room.

Madame’s writing desk was a delicate matter made of differently coloured pieces of wood, polished to shimmering with beeswax, most beautiful and valuable. Bookcases and carved shelves stood along the walls, while in between most artfully stitched tapestries of silk and damask were gleaming. The same kind of silk covered the chairs’ seats, neat little things, which looked too dainty for a heavy man like Porthos to sit upon.

The writing chair of the duchess de Chevreuse had no armrests to allow her to sit wearing her hooped skirts. Irreverently, D’Artagnan took his seat there and bent down to inspect the small table’s drawers. As they had been instructed the men began to go through the bookcases and the shelves to find any compromising documents.  
All they could find, though, were lists of household chores and the bills of tailors and seamstresses, and the certificate from the hand of a jeweler which let even Aramis’ mouth gape for a few moments.

“Secret compartments, strongboxes!” the extra sense threw in. Of course. Documents about a treaty among conspirators would not be kept openly on some shelf.

The writing table did contain a locked strongbox, which Athos un-ceremonially unlocked with his dagger. The papers inside, though, revealed only gallant secrets and lover’s oaths of several admirers of the duchess, which were of interest only to her husband, at best.

Atlan stood in the middle of the room, slowly turned around, and looked at every possible detail. Better light would have come in handy now, but that, on the other hand, could betray their presence in the lady’s study. 

Marie de Chevreuse had instigated several plots and conspiracies by now and was in close contact with the Princes of the Realm as well as foreign princes and great nobles, for example, with the close friend and intimate of the duke of Buckingham, Henry Lord Holland, who was one of her lovers.  
All of that required some extensive correspondence, that could not be kept in just one strongbox or even two. Where, and how, were all these papers hidden? Was there a spot in this room that could give a clue? Some irregularity with the measures of the intricately carved bookcases or the shelves? Was there a place where the tapestries looked different?

Without the hints of the extra sense, even the so well-experienced Arkonide could not have found the tiny discrepancy. But there it was: one of the bookcases had some deeper carvings at the bottom line. With a gesture, Atlan called the musketeers to his side and started to feel the frame of that bookcase with his fingertips, helped by Aramis and D'Artagnan. Suddenly there was a clicking sound, and the entire inner part of the case swung aside and revealed a hidden compartment, a shallow niche, well-fitted into the walls of the older part of the house.

The niche was entirely filled with plain shelves and contained heaps and heaps of papers, neatly bound by silken bands, and tied by bows. Small bags of leather lay to one side, suspiciously sounding when one touched them. They contained golden and silver coins of foreign currencies, even Austrian Talers, and Spanish doubloons could be found in abundance, softly sounding witnesses to the venality of the duchess de Chevreuse, who thought nothing of betraying secrets of the French state to foreign agents if it fit her plans. With all her heart, she wanted to see King Louis and his First Minister, whom she hated so passionately, on their knees at her feet-or even lie there dead.

The Arkonide had a look at a huge bundle of fine-smelling papers and took them out. Aramis held his lamp high and looked over his shoulder and gave a low whistle.

“But these are letters from the Marquise de Sarpons!” he murmured, distinct awe in his voice. At Atlan’s questioning look, he explained: 

“She is the rage among the fine damsels at Court and the more among the fine chevaliers. Originally, she is a noble lady from the Palatinate, and became a lady-in-waiting of Elizabeth Stuart, the Electress of the Palatinate and briefly Queen of Bohemia as the wife of Frederick V of the Palatinate. You know, the Winter King.”

The Arkonide nodded shortly. He knew everything about that short-lived monarchy and the defeat the Lord of the Palatinate had suffered. He was in exile at The Hague with his family since he had had to flee from Bohemia and his own lands in the Palatinate four years ago.

“Different from the lady Amalia, who betrayed her mistress, the Marquise de Sarpons stayed true to Madame Elizabeth and has become famous at The Hague. Her husband died at the Battle of the White Mountain, but she is supported by her son Felix, who, despite his youth, has become a famous captain at sea in the Dutch Fleet. She writes the finest and most gallant letters to many ladies in several countries, has the finest style in writing, and is thought to be almost a poetess. To receive a letter from this lady, and to be an acknowledged friend of hers, is thought a great honour.”

Atlan smiled slightly. It was very much possible that the famous writer and poetess did not exchange letters with the duchess de Chevreuse because she wanted to have her as a penfriend. Rather it was believable that the lady-in-waiting to Elizabeth of the Palatinate was sounding out a politically highly active schemer and plotter to perhaps find some use in that correspondence for her mistress. Marie de Chevreuse was hands-in-gloves with Lord Holland and in that way with the duke of Buckingham, Lord Holland’s best friend. The duke of Buckingham was the Lord Admiral and therefore the Foreign Minister of England and might be of great use to the sister of his new sovereign Charles the First. Elizabeth of the Palatinate was born Elizabeth Stuart, the daughter of King James of England.

Gently he put back the finely scented bundle of letters and looked on. He was after other documents, tonight.

On the shelf below another pack of papers lay, still smelling of fresh ink. With a swift and dexterous snatch of his hand, the Arkonide took the papers out and carried them over to the writing-table, to see them better in the light of Athos’ lantern.

“Here. This is what we are looking for, without any doubt”, he murmured and spread the papers out on the desk for all of them to see.

And so, it was. Silently the men stared at the document lying on top, which bore the fine and elegant Signature of the Queen of France, and which was unquestionably sealed by her hand. Her coat of arms, etched into her signet ring, was now pressed into the dark red wax sealing the document.

“God Almighty!” Aramis softly groaned, who was the lover of the duchess de Aumale and knew a lot about the goings-on at Court. Athos, who in truth was the comte de La Fère, nodded and compressed his lips, and softly answered to d’Artagnan’s questioning look:

“That, my friend, clearly is high treason by Her Majesty our Queen, if it doesn’t even amount to an assassination of the King.”

“How-how could Her Majesty sign something like this by her own hand?” Aramis murmured, stunned. His hand holding the second lantern shook and made light and shadow dance along the walls.

“Politics, my friends”, Atlan softly retorted. “Politics, and the fears of a young woman who is told that her husband no longer loves her. Queen Anne came to France at age fourteen, and it took her young husband our King four more years to consummate their marriage. She could not speak our language and had to send all her familiar servants back to her homeland, to Spain. His Majesty, who so much rejects anything Spanish and who was only a little older than her, took a lot of time to open his heart to her. In addition, the Queen is badly instructed and is a lively person, who does not harmonize with the severe personality of her husband-but does so the more, alas, with the personality of our king’s brother, Gaston.”

The five men sighed almost at the same time. 

“Her Majesty was pregnant three times up to now, but she never could bring one of her children to term. Two times her own carelessness at least partly was to blame that she lost her child, and that has not made our king too well-disposed towards her. She loves her husband, but at the same time she is afraid of him, and often he does not treat her well. In her desperation, she turns to companions who do not do her good either, like her ladies-in-waiting the duchess of Chevreuse or the princess of Conti, who cannot scheme enough and do their best to convince her of lies and ill-meaning prattle. Therefore, his Eminence the Cardinal de Richelieu isn’t well-disposed towards the Queen out of political reasons and frightens her the more. Where should she turn then, if not towards those who lie to her? 

As long as the king has no son, his heir is his brother, Monsieur Gaston. We all know how childish and thoughtless he can be, and how little he cares for the well-being of his subjects and his country. Now he is to marry Mademoiselle de Montpensier. Madame the Queen is against this marriage because if Gaston is presented by his wife with a son, and she, our Queen, has not borne one yet, she will become less important by the year. 

Madame de Chevreuse tells her that Monsieur must not marry in any case, and if he does, then he should take her hand while the king is made to abdicate and enter holy orders, or even worse, is to be assassinated. 

That is not put into writing here explicitly, of course, but how else is one to interpret these lines? This document here is, technically speaking, the Queen’s promise of marriage to Monsieur, which he gives to her Majesty in his turn, “in case of the demise of his beloved brother”. Anna d’Austria would stay our Queen, which would be foremost to the advantage of her brother, the king of Spain. Richelieu would be sent to exile or would be murdered and no longer would stand in the way of the orthodox party at Court, which then could play its politics to the advantage of radical Catholicism and of the family of Habsburg. To the advantage of France, all of that would not be at all. Our Huguenots would be in fear of their lives as they were during the massacre of St. Bartholomew’s Night and would brandish their weapons immediately. We would face the severest kind of civil war in our beautiful homeland before the month would be out-and other countries would try their hand at this mess immediately as well. The whole of Europe would be under arms within shortest order and there would be no end to bloodshed for a long time.”

Aramis crossed himself with shaking fingers, while d’Artagnan had a sad look upon him. He admired and revered the Queen and would not see any guilt with her, who was rather the victim of this conspiracy and not a treasonous participant. Athos looked at the paper with a grim mien, and Porthos commented by simply saying:

”Ah, bah. Merde.”

“The King must not see this paper. Ever”, Athos said softly but sharply. “And neither may the cardinal. He least of all men in France.”

“I absolutely agree, my friend”, the white-haired comte de Beauvallon answered, as softly and with as much determination.

“This document we will have to destroy. Then, even if in other papers like matters are written about, Her Majesty can easily deny having heard or known about such things, because those papers are not signed by her hand.  
About the other documents and letters we have here-let us have a look at them, and then do with them what must be done. We must protect His Majesty at all costs, and the same goes for His Eminence because the king needs him, and so does France.”

Piously Aramis crossed himself, this time with a solemn face, while d’Artagnan grinned derisively and Athos hissed a “Yes, regrettably”, between clenched teeth.

When they had a closer look at the papers, they found that already there must be concrete plans to assassinate King Louis and that the comte de Chalais had been chosen to execute them, because he was the one who got nearest to the king, and in the easiest way. Sadly, there was no doubt anymore that this young fool, so madly in love with the Duchesse de Chevreuse, had assented to these plans because he wanted his beloved’s approval.

“That means a death sentence for the comte de Chalais”, Aramis said softly. “He must be arrested as swiftly as possible to keep His Majesty from harm. Wo will take care of that?”  
Everyone looked at the red-eyed Count of Beauvallon, who nodded slightly.

“I’ll do it”, he declared calmly. “This morning I will go to see Cardinal Richelieu. As well, he must be apprised of the further plans of the conspirators.”

Regrettably, that was absolutely necessary. King Louis was planning to spend time at the chateau de Fontainebleau to hunt and make merry. The cardinal in his role as France’s First Minister had rented a manor for that time, quite near to the king’s chateau, at a place called Fleury-en-Biere. Every day, he would go by coach to His Majesty to discuss the Affairs of the State of that day with him. During such a ride he was to be attacked and murdered, by a scheme concocted by no other than prince Gaston himself, who hated the cardinal with all his heart. Originally the plot had been instigated by the princes de Vendome, who were the elder half-brothers of the King. They were bastards born by the beautiful Gabrielle des Estrees and therefore were not entitled to inherit. Nevertheless, they thought that since they were the elder ones, they should have been given the right to inherit the throne of France and were full of envy of King Louis.

“Have a look at this, my friends”, the Arkonide murmured and pointed at the signatures upon the declaration of treason and the promises the conspirators had given to one another.

“There they are, all of them-the two princes of Vendome, the duchess of Chevreuse and her father, the duke of Rohan, Montmorency, who is more catholic than the pope himself, Monsieur Gaston, the brother of our King, whom His Majesty cannot punish since he is the heir to the throne as long as the King has no son, the prince of Soissons, who never is content and whom His Majesty keeps on a short leash, the princess of Conti and Bassompierre her husband, who always does as she commands, and the old duke of Epernon, who also is said to have participated in the assassination of Henri Quatre, the father of our King.”

He grimaced and softly went on:” Most interesting also, who hasn’t joined the conspiracy. The Duc de Chevreuse hasn’t signed the document, and neither has the Duc de Guise, who perhaps thinks that he would not win enough, participating in such a case of treason, because he is one of the first nobles at Court already. The prince of Condé, who always has risen against the King before, and the prince de Angouleme, who has joined a former conspiracy, both have spent some uncomfortable time in the Bastille, and seem to have learned from that. Which surprises me, with nobles that exalted.”

The musketeers snorted with subdued laughter, but they did not dare to laugh out loud.

“My friend, what surprises me, though, is how a modest count from the Auvergne like you can be informed so well about matters at Court and about highest nobility”, Aramis said, in a slightly ironic tone.

“When we were so worried about you because of that affair with the fire striker, my dear comte, which even got you a witchcraft charge-we saw you bound to the stake in our minds. But you were able to argue your way out of danger and managed to convince even the cardinal Richelieu with your reasoning, most likely because you are that worldly-wise and far-traveled and know so much. That was the first time that the cardinal Berulle had to let go of one of his victims.”

D’Artagnan rolled his eyes and grinned. “Oh, my dear Aramis, whom the beautiful Bernardine de Brecassar is in love with…”

“And whom the great Duc de Cosse is well-disposed towards as a friend”, Aramis added, solemn again. “My friend d’Arcon, I beg you, do not expose yourself to great dangers and look out for yourself, not only for His Majesty. The Cardinal is not feared without reason, and you will antagonize Monsieur Gaston very badly if someone finds out who has warned His Eminence of his danger to be assassinated. We would deeply regret losing you as our friend.”

Atlan felt touched by the deep and devoted friendship these brave and honest daredevils displayed. He knew that they had desperately made plans to free him and get him out of the Palais du Cardinal when he had been held there on witchcraft charges, and how joyfully they had greeted the news that he had been set free untouched. These men were good sports and ready to do anything-and if it were to steal secret papers.

“Messieurs, I thank you from my heart”, he said softly and bowed. “However, time flies. We have what we came for and now can protect the Queen as well as His Majesty and the Cardinal Richelieu, and this way, we protect France herself. Now it is essential to get our booty away to safety. Please keep in mind, my dear friends, that it is more important to leave unrecognized than to fight bravely and victoriously. Be as silent as we were before; if we cannot get away through the cellar we can escape by the side-door to the Rue St.Thomas or through the gardens, which extend to the Rue Saint-Nicaise. The garden gate there we will have to force, but that is better than trying to climb that high iron fence with its many sharp spikes. After that, we should disperse and return singly to the Golden Fir-Cones Inn. The third room on the first floor is booked, and the fair Jeanette will guide you upstairs immediately. I also have ordered a proper meal with good wine.”

The men nodded to each other and closed the bookshelves. The secret compartment disappeared, and everything looked as it had before.

The Arkonide folded the papers and carefully put them away in the inner pocket of his jacket. Now it was necessary to hand these documents to the cardinal Richelieu, safely and as swiftly as possible-but for the most important and most controversial one.

No more than one hour had gone by and the whole house still was sleeping, as it seemed. Soundlessly Aramis opened the door, and Porthos stepped out into the dressing room of the duchess.

Unfortunately, in the dark, he did not see the washbowl sitting on its stand in the middle of the room. The eyes of the musketeers were somewhat dazzled by the fire of the lanterns that had lighted their work in the study.

With a loud thud and piercing clangs, the washbowl fell and shattered, and the washstand followed with little less noise. Immediately the soubrettes woke up and cried for help, no matter they could not see anything in the dark. The duchess herself called for candles, and then a deep male voice joined the noise.

“Oh”, Atlan said with unnatural calm into the shocked silence of his friends. “That is His Grace the Duc de Chevreuse himself. Who would have thought that he would find a place in his wife’s bed at long last? Go, back into the study! We leave by its window!”

Immediately the musketeers turned and ran back into the study, slammed the door, and shot the bolt. The next moment the duke furiously knocked and yelled that the burglars should open the door instantly, or he would run his rapier through the offenders’ hearts!  
However, His Grace’s voice still sounded quite sleepy.

The musketeers left the lanterns on the floor and ran over to the window, ripped it open, and leaned out. By the light of the moon, the balcony of the beletage below was clearly visible.

Without any compunction, Athos grabbed for the heavy velvet curtain, stitched with silver thread, ripped it asunder, and knotted the fabric around the window frame. D’Artagnan swung out as the first one and got down to the balcony; Atlan followed, then Aramis and Athos clambered down. When Porthos did the same, the makeshift rope ripped, but fortunately only when the heavy musketeer almost had reached the balcony. 

Meanwhile, in the house, the hue and cry had risen considerably. Windows were ripped open, and the duke of Chevreuse leaned out himself and called for his guardsmen, and cried threats down to the intruders.

From the balcony down to the garden it still was a dangerous jump. But the four musketeers and their friend did not hesitate and took to their heels in a hurry the moment they reached the garden floor.

The first ones of the guardsmen ran around a corner of the house but jumped back swearing when they were bombarded by a hail of pots of flowers and herbs unleashed by D'Artagnan and Porthos. Madame de Chevreuse would have to mourn her kitchen garden in addition, because the fleeing men ran straight through the plants and jumped across the low walls without any consideration for the damage they wrought.

The duke screamed for his hounds, but those were lying in the straw deeply asleep, knocked out by the laudanum, and could not be woken by the stable boys.

The garden of the Duc de Chevreuse surely was a wonderful work of art, because of the achievements of exotic botany as well as of the beauty of its architecture. Running away in the moonlight, the five men could not appreciate that beauty. Their pursuers screamed abuses and slanderous threats after them. Gnashing his teeth, Athos gripped his rapier and turned to go at the insolent fellows.

“My friend, don’t fight, run!” the comte de Beauvallon called to him, and angrily the musketeer obeyed. He knew too well about what was at stake.

The lock of the garden gate, solid, strong, and heavy, was no match for the dagger made of Arkonath steel. The men slipped outside and ran away as swiftly as they could, one of them going up the Rue St.Thomas, another one running down the Rue St.Honoré, and a third one disappearing into the Rue St.Nicaise.

Atlan and Athos followed the Rue du Doyenne and hurried around the corner of the Louvre. The duc de Chevreuse lived near to his king.

Here they could disappear into the labyrinth of small ancient lanes, clambering up the sagging roof of an old stable and running through backyards and small gardens of the burghers in the moonlight, only to reach another narrow lane a short time later.

The cries of the pursuers became softer and trailed away at long last to become silent. Still, the musketeer and the white-haired count from the Auvergne did not stop but ran on towards the inn, which they reached from the back and had to go around to be able to enter.

D’Artagnan already was there and poured for his friends a proper glass of wine, which was drunk with joy. Slowly the Arkonide got back his breath. The young musketeer was grinning broadly and showed his pride in the success of this adventure, which after all had come to a good end, nevertheless.

“Aramis and Porthos are missing still”, solemn Athos warned, but already the two men could be heard upon the stairs, where they tried to be as quiet as possible since it was still night and they did not want to draw attention.

“The Ronde will be alerted swiftly to help the duke with his search for the burglars and thieves”, Athos said, worried, while his friends merrily started to eat and drink. With their work done they were now hungry and thirsty.

“In the worst case we can slip downstairs to the backyard here and descend to the tunnels once more”, the comte de Beauvallon declared calmly. “I know the way to my lodgings at the Camp Fleuri well enough. We would not go astray.”

Athos only raised his brows, while Aramis piously appealed to the Holy Virgin to protect them. But neither prayers nor further slipping around in dirty tunnels were necessary. The duke of Chevreuse had lost the track of the men who had broken into his hotel.

“And now to a necessary action”, Atlan said and took out the document the Queen had signed. In the flickering light of the flames in the fireplace, the dark red of the sealing wax gleamed ominously.

With a swift movement of his wrist, he threw the leaf of paper into the fire and watched it burn, leaving only ash behind. Relieved and almost devoutly and very quietly, the four musketeers saw the paper turn black and vanish which could have cost their Queen her honour and her marriage. What they had achieved this night was quite great and important!

Charpentier, the oldest one of the secretaries serving His Eminence the Cardinal de Richelieu, had to announce a quite unusual visitor to his master. The comte de Beauvallon wished to speak to His Eminence, whom one would have expected to avoid another stay in the Palais du Cardinal if he could help it.

Armand du Plessis, Cardinal de Richelieu, was a very astute and well-informed man. Originally meant to become an officer in the army and educated for that, he was not without personal courage and was a genius at strategy and politics, though he, as a man of the church, was using his talents to achieve peaceful goals. At least this was how he himself saw matters. People who would not serve him and the King of France saw him and his abilities in a different light because the cardinal could be quite ruthless and was easily able to advance his plans and views and to implement them in the Council of State. King Louis the thirteenth of France knew what kind of help and support he got from his First Minister, and most often followed his advice, even if he had to defend the cardinal against his critics, among whom the Fathers of the Society of Jesus could be found. They accused the cardinal of seeing first to the interests of France instead of the agendas of the pope and the Holy Mother the Church, and full of disgust blamed him for treating with protestants rather than making war on them and persecuting the heretics with anathema and the ban of the Catholic Church.

Such an attitude, which preserved the inner peace of France even when the pope had other opinions made the cardinal look so pleasing to the eyes of his master the King and made him look so devilish and hateful to the members of the radical Catholic party.

The count with the red eyes and the white hair entered, took his hat off, and bowed deeply to the cardinal according to the ceremonial demanded at Court. The elegant feathers of the hat almost touched the floor.

“Your Grace, Monsieur le Comte”, the prince of the Church greeted his unusual visitor politely and gravely inclined his head.

“Please, take a seat.”

The chair in front of His Eminence’s writing-table was not a distinguished affair with carvings and armrests fit only for highest nobility, but it sufficed for the sake of ceremony and politeness. The count from the Auvergne sat with the quiet elegance and litheness he owned.

“Your Eminence.” 

As he had noticed at the first meeting with the comte d’Arcon, the cardinal saw neither awe nor fear in the eyes of the comte. Berulle, the ninny, had sworn to high heaven that those eyes were a sign of the devil and that this alone should condemn this man to a death sentence at the stake. 

But if one thought of the service this so far-traveled and knowledgeable man rendered the poor of Paris, one realized that matters were vastly different from their first appearance.  
The count of Beauvallon had cited Aristoteles and Plinius and had provided evidence that in nature, which God had created, time and again unusual colours of eyes and the fur of some animals occurred, and so it had happened to the comte d’Arcon, whom God had let be born like this. In the family of the count, such traits were hereditary; his father and his grandfather, as well as ancestors further removed, had looked like him, having white hair from birth and their eyes coloured red, a fact which indeed was recorded in the church register of Beauvallon.

The count bowed slightly once more and instantly got on to the matters of his concern, omitting the conventional and polite talk usually preceding serious conversation, which drew the cardinal’s attention. But already with the second sentence of this astounding story, His Eminence understood why.

He looked at the documents which the white-haired count handed over, with growing agitation and horror. How near he had gotten to death, and how nearly he had been hurt by the unlimited malice of the devil, which dwelt in many a beautiful woman’s bosoms and in many a brash man’s chests. In truth, this brave and dauntless man from the Auvergne had saved the King and the kingdom with securing these papers-and himself, the cardinal de Richelieu, no less!

Nevertheless, the cardinal kept his countenance and outer calm.

“Henri de Talleyrand-Perigord, comte de Chalais”, the prince of the Church sighed. “He has no evil heart, but he has let himself be drawn in and bewitched by a Lilith who has no equal. I call this woman the Devil and her friend the princess of Conti Sin incarnated, but unfortunately, those two are the best friends of Her Majesty the Queen. If we find that the comte de Chalais truly plans to assassinate His Majesty, then not even I can save him from the severity of the law. Regicide is one of the most terrible crimes known to mankind.”

The count of Beauvallon inclined his head, consenting.

“Your Eminence, if you would be so kind to still extend grace towards this young fool in mad love, then let him be watched closely and see to it that he cannot get too near to His Majesty. The Court will travel to the Bretagne next month, to look after matters there and stop the rebellion of the prince de Vendome, the current governor of that province. If the comte de Chalais has not come to his senses till he reaches Nantes, and does not confess to you by then, admitting to his plans and those of his comrades in conspiracy-then he must be deemed truly lost and unable to change his dangerous ways.”

Solemnly the cardinal nodded. 

“For your sake and for the sake of the warning you gave to me in time, Monsieur d’Arcon, I will deal with the comte de Chalais in such a manner. God moves in mysterious ways and his benevolence is without limit.”

Thoughtfully the cardinal looked down at the papers of the conspirators and examined them closely. The white-haired count was waiting patiently and without betraying any anxiousness.

“We will have to make the guilty ones see reason, one after the other in a manner fit to the rank and the circumstances of each of them”, he said slowly. “Monsieur le comte-one thing still seems odd to me and does not make sense in my eyes.”

“Your Eminence?”

The red-eyed count still did not show any fear or insecurity, although just he had had to fight for his very life in front of the cardinal before, if only with his clever and prudent words. It had been his salvation that the cardinal Berulle could not treat a comte and Seigneur of France as ruthlessly as a farmer or a Parisian good-for-nothing from off the street and could not have him condemned as swiftly and carelessly. The second matter that had saved him had been the fact that a count could appeal to his King and the Church and had the right by law to be heard.

“Here it is mentioned that Monsieur, His Majesty’s brother, refuses to marry Marie the Duchess de Montpensier, despite the fortune she brings with her. Instead, he avows that he will give his hand to another. Which other lady, I ask, may be good enough to meet the demands of this prince? Considering that our King is to be assassinated and Monsieur expects to ascend to the throne shortly-which lady at Court should be his Queen then in the eyes of these blind fools?”

The white-haired count grimaced but did not let himself be goaded into speaking. The answer was too obvious.

“It is the orthodox party, the radical Catholics, who stand behind all these plans, the people who would rather obey the pope than their king, those who belonged to the so-called Holy Liga in the times of our king Henri the third, and those who had this king murdered in the end. They would never agree to a war with Spain, that so most catholic country, doing anything to keep the friendship of the Spanish family of Habsburg.   
But what, I ask, would His Spanish Majesty think and say, if his sister, our Queen, became a widow by the assassination of her husband and would have to live at our Court all lonely and abandoned by all her friends and courtiers, without even a son or at least a daughter whose love might warm her heart? What, I ask, would our conspirators have thought of to avoid the ire of the Spanish?”

The comte de Beauvallon still was silent and only inclined his head in assent.

Slowly cardinal Richelieu nodded, looking sharply at the white-haired count.

“The answer to my questions is too easily gauged, is it not? D’Arcon-did the Queen know about these plans of her brother-in-law?”

“I cannot say, Your Eminence.” The red-eyed count bowed solemnly. The cardinal smiled deceptively gently.

“Can you not, Your Grace, because you do not know, or can you not because you would not say? Isn’t it strange that the plans of these conspirators have gone that far and already were about to be executed, with one of the persons who are most affected ignorant about these plans? Is it probable that she does not know anything? And since it is not-how can she stay silent and not tell anything to her husband? Doesn’t that mean that she must have consented?”

The comte d’Arcon smiled slightly. “Your Eminence, I can only repeat that I cannot say.”

Cardinal Richelieu cleared his throat. “Well, de Beauvallon. I understand. You are playing a nasty little trick on me in this since now I cannot do what I should have to give true certainty and security of mind and heart to the King. It surely is chivalrous and tactful to respect the disposition of a woman and to see to it one does not hurt her feelings, indeed, even to protect her and if it were against her merit. And one cannot deny that you have gallantry in abundance, Monsieur le comte, with the relationship you maintain with Madame de Brecassar.”

The Arkonide coughed shortly. His Eminence was not fully content and showed his claws somewhat.

“Your Eminence, neither she nor I commit adultery, since she is a widow, and I am unmarried.”

“That is true.” Cardinal Richelieu smiled sarcastically. “You only sin shamelessly every day which God creates.”

“Not every day, Your Eminence. Apart from that, I would be surprised if you did not know the special circumstances Madame de Brecassar is living with. Her husband was a nephew of the Duc de Cosse. He died without issue and left all his properties to his wife, who administers them together with the lands she has brought to that marriage.   
As matters stand now her younger sister is her heir, and that sister the Duc de Cosse has married to another of his nephews. They already have children, two of them boys. So, the Grand Panetier can be sure that these properties and that wealth will not be lost to his family.  
But what would happen if Madame de Brecassar would marry again? What, if she should have children? All she owns would become the property of her new husband and his family and would be administered by him, their children would become the heirs to these lands, and the family de Cosse-Brissac would lose all that wealth.  
Since, of course, the duke de Cosse does not wish for such a scenario, and since he is the legal guardian of his niece by marriage, he will never give his assent to another marriage of that niece.

But since he loves her as well, cares for her, and values her as the clever courtier she is, he does not expect her to pass her life in mourning as a nun. As a lady-in-waiting to her Majesty the Queen, she holds an important office which brings honour and further influence for her uncle by marriage. So, he does not begrudge her the joys of love and is glad that she does not have to live in loneliness. If she now, as you said before, would bear a child begotten by sin, then that child would not be entitled to inherit and would be dependent on the properties and goods its father would bequeath to it.”

Truly amused the Cardinal smiled.

“Well countered, d’Arcon. Deduced from the wealth you sometimes display-one only has to think of the dress stitched with pearls which Madame de Brecassar was wearing at the last ball at Court-then such a child begotten by sin would not have to suffer want. But-back to the highest Lady in the realm.”

Atlan took a deep breath. Queen Anna had acted imprudently, yes, and had in fact committed treason with signing that paper. But whether she knew and realized that her husband was to be killed was uncertain and quite doubtful. Raised in a profoundly Catholic environment and deeply conscious of her honour as the sister of the Spanish King, whose honour would be touched by any dishonourable act of the French Queen, it was improbable that she had assented knowingly to the assassination of her husband. It would not have fit her personality either, where gaiety and thoughtlessness prevailed.

“Your Eminence, I only can tell you what I think and conclude from the matters I read and heard about today and yesterday. The Queen would readily give her hand to the brother of the King if he had stayed unmarried and she had become a widow by natural causes. His Majesty was often sick as a child, which fact has given evil hopes to some people. But I cannot conceive of Her Majesty silently abetting a plot against the life of her husband, or actively consenting to it. I do not believe that she could reconcile such things with her conscience, with the education she has been given.”

Softly sighing the Carinal nodded.

“Very well, Your Grace de Beauvallon. Be that as it may. Let us forgive her then and forget about her faults-even if His Majesty will not be able to do that as easily. But we have other matters to deal with now, deducing from the papers you have handed to me and which must be acted upon. I thank you. The blessings of our Holy Mother the Church are yours, and my personal thanks.”

The Arkonide rose and ceremonially bowed, swayed his hat, and left the room, once again guided by Richelieu’s secretary. It was a good thing that the cardinal could not see his ironic smile. The personal thanks of the cardinal were at least worth something-but about the blessings of the Catholic Church he could not care less!

**Author's Note:**

> if anyone is interested, here's what became of the plotters:
> 
> Marie de Chevreuse was sent to exile, which she was called back from the next year, since she did more mischief there than she had at Paris. (Meanwhile, her husband went upon pilgrimages...)
> 
> The comte de Chalais was executed at Nantes in August. His friends tried to hinder the execution and had the executioner abducted, with the result that an amateur was used to kill poor Chalais. The man needed about thirty blows of the ax till Chalais was dead. Some help of friends!
> 
> Prince Gaston was forced to marry Marie de Montpensier, and they had a -reportedly-very sad wedding. Nevertheless, since she was such a rich heiress and the king sweetened the matter for his brother with titles and substantial gifts, Gaston soon got reconciled to his fortune. Alas, less than a year later, the new duchess of Orleans was dead after giving birth to a daughter, and prince Gaston was free again to wreak more mischief and confuse the diplomatic issues of France.
> 
> Anne Queen of France was examined closely and repeatedly-and humiliatingly-on her involvement with the conspiracy, but there was no true proof that she had known about the assassination plans. That she had promised to marry Gaston she admitted, but said that this promise would only have been valid if her husband had died of natural causes, and that in such a case she would only have obeyed the orders of her father, who would have wanted her to stay the Queen of France. King Louis, her husband, was not amused, and never truly forgave her, nor did he truly believe what she swore to him: that she never had known about any plans to kill him. On his deathbed, she swore again, and he said bitterly that he had to accept her words, but did not have to believe her...


End file.
